


Your Sweet Disaster

by MikaHaeli8



Series: Direct Me To The Sun [12]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Bump Worship, Dirty Talk, Fluff, I know you've been waiting for this, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnant Sex, Sex, blowjob, but that is not what the rating is for, care, language too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikaHaeli8/pseuds/MikaHaeli8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was with moments like these that Eames was glad Allie was out the house, with Arthur mouthing at his bump like it was a sacred relic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Sweet Disaster

It was with moments like these that Eames was glad Allie was out the house, with Arthur mouthing at his bump like it was a sacred relic. His stomach had always been a particularly sensitive area, and pregnancy just exacerbated it, so when Arthur’s lips and the tip of his tongue trailed over it, the groan that escaped from the back of his throat was completely involuntary.

“Christ, you _have_ missed me,” Arthur uttered in a hushed, almost reverent tone as his fingertips curled under the waistband of Eames’ joggers. “ _Look_ at you.”

The Brit grumbled wordlessly.

“Oh shh.” Arthur drew Eames’ joggers down, nuzzling his swollen belly as he went. “Just let me take care of you, okay? I’m back now. I’m not leaving you again.”

Eames raised himself a few inches, reaching a hand down to Arthur. He _had_ to touch him, just to ascertain his real, physical presence in the house. He didn’t have his totem on him, but he didn’t want Arthur to be a dream. Not this time.

Understanding the motive behind his action, Arthur raised himself up, fitting his face into Eames’ hand. “I _won’t_.”

“Mmm.”

“God damn it,” Arthur sighed, turning his attentions back to the rest of the other man’s body. “I love seeing you like this, all full of my babies. But I’m never knocking you up again; you get so insecure when you’re pregnant,”

“Yeah, well – mmmghh, _shit_.”

Arthur smirked, continuing to roll Eames’ balls in his hand. “Stop complaining, Mr. Eames.”

Eames let his head fall back to rest on the back of the sofa, pushing himself down into Arthur’s more than capable hands, _god yes, yes, right there, right there_ –

And suddenly, he felt his husband’s tongue on his rock-hard dick, tearing a very loud “ _Fuck!_ ” from his throat. Arthur chuckled as he took Eames in, the sound reverberating along his shaft and causing his hips to jolt forward, bumping the back of Arthur’s throat.

It was a good thing the American had learned to tame his gag reflex when he was still in his teens, illicitly drinking with the older boys he hung around with. That was a skill that came in useful many times, especially now. All the Englishman could do was half-lie on the sofa, body full of nothing but pure _want_ for the man between his legs, as said man sent ripples of pleasure using the best upper-body tools he had ( _and_ Christ _, were they the best_ ).

“Shit, _Arthur_ …”

Arthur stopped, pulling off with a slick popping sound. “Yes, darling?”

“Uh no, no, _no_ …” Eames frantically flapped his hands at Arthur. “No stop. No.”

The American merely chuckled, skimming his hands lightly around the exposed areas. “Oh no, Eames. I’m not done here yet. Just be patient, okay?” He got up, arching over the heavily pregnant man, lips ghosting his ear. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get your release. Come with me.”

“Not half-naked, I’m not.” Eames was too aware of the fact that the curtains were open. He didn’t want the neighbourhood to see him getting sucked off, let alone his bare arse.

“Oh, you,” Arthur mock-scoffed, a note of affection softening the tone. Diving down again, he pulled Eames’ underwear and joggers back up before assisting Eames to his feet. “You’re such a diva sometimes,”

“Me?” Eames huffed. “Nah, I’m the cool side of the pillow in the messy bed that is our little family. Isn’t that right, Nelly?”

Nelly wagged her tail in confirmation.

“Good girl.”

Arthur chuckled, the dimples making an appearance. “Bedroom. Now. C’mon.”

“Yes, Solomon. Finish what you started,”

“Cheeky bastard,”

“You _started_ it!”

“Yes, I tend to start a lot.”

Eames growled in response as both men undressed, kissing each other as if they were drowning and each was the other’s air, hands reacquainting themselves with the other’s body. In very little time at all, the couple were on the bed, Arthur balls-deep in Eames; one hand was wrapped around the other man’s cock, the other splayed across his stomach.

They were both feeling every millimetre of the other, especially as there was no need for a condom. All of which made this time incredibly intense, so much so that Arthur thought he was going to lose control as soon as he slid into Eames.

“Oh, _you_ ,” Arthur breathed affectionately, mouthing Eames’ shoulder as the other man impaled himself on his cock, over and over again, each time with little mewls and grunts that inspired Arthur to slow his cock-filled hand to an almost torturous pace. “Look at you, full of my babies, full of me. _Jesus_ …”

Eames let out a long groan, telling Arthur exactly what he thought of that kind of talk, increasing his speed. Arthur soon found a counter-rhythm, increasing his own speed until he was fucking his husband harder than either of them could remember. The other man responded by ways of wordless cries, punctuated by the occasional _fuck_ , _shit_ and _Arthur_.

Arthur laughed, the sound coming out rough and dirty. “That’s right. You fucking know it, don’t you?” He reached over, lightly biting Eames’ earlobe, making the other man buck hard. “You know how well I know you. What makes you – _uhh_ – moan…”

They were both reaching their edge, and they knew it, Eames fucking Arthur’s hand whilst Arthur fucked Eames; both wanting more of this, more of eachother, _more_ –

And over they both went, Arthur painting Eames’ insides whilst Eames covered the sheets, both with mingled shouts and white in their respective visions. For a long time, they stayed entangled, Arthur kissing away the red marks he’d put on Eames’ shoulder.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked, voice hoarse with lust.

“Fuck,” Eames panted, shaking his head, completely and thoroughly sated. “No. ‘Course not.”

“Good.” Arthur’s hand came to rest on Eames’ stomach again, caressing as much as he could reach. One of the twins moved, making him jump, which made Eames laugh breathlessly in turn. “What?”

“You. Being startled.” A chuckle underscored Eames’ voice. “Least you don’t have a gun this time,”

“That’s ‘cause it’s slotted in your holster.” Arthur smirked.

Eames gave him a look – or as much as he could, from the angle he was positioned at. “You’re so fucking cheesy,”

“Don’t swear. There are little ones around,”

“Aw, c’mon, Arthur, they won’t absorb it,”

“I guess not. But it’s the principle of the matter.”

Eames snorted. “You and principles?”

“I have ‘em. You just took ages to get yours.” Arthur tapped Eames’ sensitive nipples, which only made him groan again.

“Oh, touché.” Eames eased himself off Arthur’s cock and buried himself under the covers.

“Eames!” Arthur laughed breathlessly. “What are you doing?”

“‘m tired,” Eames mumbled from under the sheets. “Gonna take a nap,”

“Do you not want to shower first? Also, you’re sleeping on a come-soaked sheets,”

“It’s _my_ come, it doesn’t matter.” Eames’ head appeared from the top of the soiled quilt. “Also, we’ve done way worse to this bed, and it’s still survived over half a decade of marriage.”

Arthur shrugged. “I guess so. I’m gonna go shower, though.”

“‘Kay,” Eames replied, impending sleep thickening his voice.

He was already fully gone by the time Arthur stepped out the shower. He observed the sleeping man for a while, a small smile on his face, before he dropped the towel from his waist and slipped into bed. One arm around Eames’ bump, he kissed the soft skin behind his ear before snuggling down, body practically sighing with relief as it spooned his husband’s.

He was home. At _last_.


End file.
